


Thoroughbred

by grayimperia



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Animal Death, Blood, Character Study, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayimperia/pseuds/grayimperia
Summary: They cry out for Sothis to have mercy on them all in the wake of the horror. But there’s no need for their prayers, Edelgard thinks. The goddess is dead. And if she isn’t Edelgard will cave her head in with a rock, too. That’s what she was born for, after all.-Edelgard and what she was made for.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 10
Kudos: 171





	Thoroughbred

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the blood and violence tags, especially for the last scene which begins with "Claude is on the ground." Spoilers for Edelgard's backstory.

A man with a white face and thick veins bulging from his skin had to help her walk when they finally opened the door to Edelgard’s cell. She didn’t remember when she lost her shoes, but they had disappeared, and then there was nothing to protect her from the cold or the rats and their teeth. 

Edelgard’s legs had barely cooperated with her. They were matted with dirt, blood, and new cuts just like every other part of her body, but their lack of function bothered her so much more. Even if she had managed to slip through the bars of her cell, she wouldn’t have been able to run. The rest of the prison was even filthier than her tiny dark cell, and the first time she realized her feet and legs would betray her if a miracle came, she resolved to crawl on her hands and knees with the rats until she made it back to the light.

Edelgard had to cling to the arm of the white faced man and squint her eyes when the trapdoor to the underground was flung open. It hurt too much to look forward even when given what she had spent every second of every day wishing for, and the sun burned tiny white and red and black spots over her vision when the white faced man transformed from a monster to a man.

He led her somewhere so they could wash off some of the dirt and blood before giving her back to her father like a cat delivering a half-devoured rat. 

“Oh, El,” he had said, and she saw her father cry for the first time as if he had been right beside her in that dark cell. “El… Oh, Sothis…”

She remembered one of the men chucking to himself in the darkness, too far into the shadows for her to see. When her sniffling would stop and she would go silent because the crying made her head hurt, he would say to her, “Don’t bother with praying to the goddess, child. She’s dead.”

In the darkness, Edelgard had figured that out on her own. She didn’t tell her father, but she clasped her hands together every night and sent out a promise to whoever might listen in upon her thoughts.

No more rats.

-

Edelgard remembers Dimitri—a boy with floppy blonde hair and a stammering demeanor—and he ducks his head and gives her a shy smile but doesn’t ask whatever question must be lingering on the tip of his tongue.

In those first few days at the academy, she’s polite enough to him and returns his smile on every other occasion. But mostly she doesn’t think of him and spends her time trying to rally the group of noble children she was handed in between meetings with Hubert in whatever corner of the monastery away from Rhea’s eyes they can find.

Edelgard practically ran into Dimitri after returning from one of her meetings with Hubert once. Claude was only a few feet behind and laughed as they exchanged awkward apologies for not looking where they were going. Edelgard let them know she had just come from tea with Hubert and had other pressing business to attend to before hurrying off. She knew Claude made sure his voice carried across the courtyard to her when he asked Dimitri if he was jealous.

She didn’t bother to listen for his response. A few more training dummies than usual were massacred in the training grounds, bits of stuffing and splinters scattered on the ground. Edelgard found the scene with Dorothea, who screwed up her nose and said the culprit could have at least bothered to clean up their mess. 

But instead Dorothea took care of it. She raised her hand and let a small flame sweep from her palm to pick up all the debris, turning big and small pieces alike to ash.

She brushed her hands together with a satisfied, “There. Edie, do you know where they keep a broom around here?”

The training grounds were irradiated with magical heat for only seconds, and by the time Edelgard was back, the battlefield had cooled to lifeless cinders.

Dorothea took one broom from her. “Thank you, Edie. Would you mind starting with that side? We can meet in the middle.”

The swept Dimitri’s mess into a black pile of soot while Dorothea chattered about this and that and the many times she had to clean up other people’s messes. “Especially men who think they’re clever—oh, don’t even get me started. No one is more likely to start something he can’t finish and leave you holding the broom than a man who thinks he’s the second coming of the goddess.”

“Really?” Edelgard asked. “I don’t think the person who did this is very clever at all.”

“That’s the thing,” Dorothea said. “They’re not, but they think they are. Honestly, I think that is the very worst fault a person can have. Someone who isn’t quite as clever as they think they are is just bound to get into mess trouble. And you can trust me on this, Edie. Dealing with some directors in the opera was more of a crash course than I’d wish on anyone.”

Edelgard smiled and looked at her broom as she swept it in long strokes, dying its brow tips black. “I don’t doubt it, but I think this was just an act of recklessness.”

“I mean, maybe,” she relented. “But usually reckless idiots own up to their mistakes. The ones who think they can get away with it are the ones who make everyone else deal with their messes. There,” she said, and the last of pile was pushed together. “Now just to dispose of the evidence… but not before I tell Seteth so justice can be served.”

“I didn’t know you were a tattletale.”

“Only when I’m feeling petty.”

Dorothea went and came back, and Seteth came and then stormed off again, and Edelgard looked up from the ashes at Dorothea’s pretty green eyes. “Do you think you could teach me how to do that? Set fires, I mean.”

Dorothea placed a delicate hand over her mouth and giggled. “Oh my, Edie. I never pegged you as an arsonist.”

“I have few intentions to be,” Edelgard said. “But I think you’re right—it’s useful to have a skill or two to clean up messes.”

“Well, why not?” she laughed and looped one of her arms around Edelgard’s. “And red has always looked lovely on you anyway. Adding a little fire might be fun.”

-

Hubert was the crueler one between the two of them, but it was worse to cross Edelgard. 

She had a rule for them since she was ten that she told him sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom. “We’re going to have to be mean and do bad things,” she said. “But we shouldn’t be any meaner than we have to be.”

Usually when she gave an order, Hubert would nod and respond with a “Yes, Lady Edelgard.” This time though, he had tilted his head, letting his dark hair fall even further in his eyes. “What about when… we deal with the people who deserve it?”

Edelgard bit her lip.

Hubert said, “The people who,” and he lowered his voice as his hands clenched into fists, “hurt you.”

“They’re different. They’re not people.”

That got Hubert to nod his head. 

They headed to the gardens afterwards to pretend to play and be normal children. Edelgard didn’t mind the distraction, especially when the carnations were in bloom and painted the whole courtyard in swathes of red. She didn’t have to say anything to Hubert for him to pick up on her attraction to them, and he would try his best to make bland small talk about the flowers when they were doing particularly well.

When he was fifteen and the first time they worked together to kill an adult didn’t work out quite as well as they had planned, Edelgard got on her hands and knees to scrub the stone steps, looking for drops of blood with the moon as her guide while Hubert spared the carnations and dug up the petunias. They hadn’t killed a white faced man, but the color from him faded fast and seemed so dull compared to the splashes across his clothes. Edelgard realized then that Hubert had been right when he suggested they just poison the man, but Edelgard had insisted on doing it with her own hands. At the very least, she paid for her mistake by helping Hubert lower him into the shallow ground and disguise their crime as best she could until they were both caked in dirt and blood.

He had been a noble, not a particularly powerful one but notable enough that he received an invitation along with a slew of others to visit the palace. There was also a rumor that he had killed his wife because she couldn’t bear a child with a Crest. His death wouldn’t further Edelgard’s cause, but she heard what he did and thought about the scars crisscrossing all over her up to her neck when he admired the pretty collar on her dress. 

Hubert said poison would be best. Instead, he picked the lock to his room and let Edelgard do what she needed to with her axe.

He didn’t get out a sound, and all Edelgard could hear was her own breathing when she dropped her axe on the mattress beside his corpse. Hubert held her close and waited until the ringing in her ears began to subside before reminding her they needed to move quickly.

She thought again about how he hadn’t made a sound and asked Hubert if he had drugged the man beforehand to make it easier. Hubert said they needed to move quickly.

But when she was ten, Hubert said, “They’re blooming early this year.”

Edelgard crouched down beside a particularly vibrant patch. Hubert said, “Be careful about the bees, Lady Edelgard.”

“Oh, they won’t bother me,” she said. “They just care about the flowers.”

Hubert’s face pinched, but he didn’t argue again as he kneeled beside her. “Would you like to pick a few to bring to your room?”

Edelgard shook her head. “No, they die too fast. And besides, I can just come out here when I want to see them.”

“Really?” Hubert smiled. “And what about the flower crowns you made last week?”

She puffed out her cheeks. “Those were different.”

And they admired all the flowers in the garden before circling back to the carnations. Edelgard noticed a clump shaking, and when she took a step closer, she let out a scream. 

Hubert threw an arm in front of her as if it was an assassin in the flowers and not a rat. Edelgard was still grateful for it, and clung to him, her nails digging even through the thick fabric of his coat to leave little red marks on his arm. 

The creature scurried off, and Hubert hissed, “Stay here, Lady Edelgard.”

She sat on a stone bench taking deep breaths, keeping her head in her hands until the ringing in her ears stopped. Hubert came back and put an arm around her shoulders. She dared to open her eyes and saw just a few drops of blood on his white gloves.

He waited, and then asked if she wanted to go back inside.

Edelgard asked if he killed it.

Hubert said they should go back inside.

When Hubert got better with magic, Edelgard would spy him down the hall or in the gardens, snapping his fingers to snap a rat’s neck with one clean break. 

When she dropped her axe beside the first man she killed, she counted one cut for each year she was old until the blood ran too thick for her to see. 

-

Dorothea was good with makeup. Edelgard had had plans when she was little to ask her big sister to teach her how to make her face look pretty and rosy when she was old enough. She’s more than old enough now and puts all her care into her hair, making it clean and white and giving it the scent of roses.

Dorothea pulled her hair back behind her ears to get a better look at her face reflected back in the mirror. “You have such beautiful hair, but it’s so thin. It must be such a hassle brushing it every morning.”

Dorothea had long polished nails, and she knew how to move her hands to let them reflect their color. Her fingertips would always flair up at the ends just a little and she took care to keep her fingers apart so they wouldn’t click together unless she wanted to draw someone’s attention. Edelgard thought about how heavy they felt against her hair and wondered what it was like to carry around that extra weight on her fingertips. 

“I have a routine,” Edelgard said. “And when I was little and couldn’t be bothered to do it, Hubert would waste hours trying to get the tangles out.”

“Aw, how sweet—little Edie and Hubie,” Dorothea said with a laugh. “Although it’s hard for me to imagine Hubie was ever a child. He just seems like the type who was born forty and grumpy.”

Edelgard’s lips twitched into a smile. “That’s a bit rude. I mean, it’s not entirely wrong, but still.”

Dorothea laughed again, and when she finished brushing Edelgard’s hair so it stayed behind her ears, Edelgard’s eyes watched the way her fingertips flared out the ends to show off her pointed red nails. 

She started to rummage through a drawer in her vanity, leaving Edelgard to stare back at her reflection. “I have to admit,” she said. “I was a bit surprised you wanted to do this—though definitely in a good way! I know Petra is very specific with her makeup, and I think I need a few more lessons in Brigid makeup techniques before I try to suggest anything to her. And, oh, Bernie—she’s like a frightened rabbit, the poor thing. I’m afraid she’ll bolt if I even look at her face for too long, let alone convince her to let me touch her.”

Edelgard made eye contact with the Dorothea in the mirror when she finally turned back around. “So I win by default?”

“Hardly,” Dorothea said. “I was sure I would have to beg you.”

“Really?” Then the real Dorothea was by her side, brushing her hair back behind her ears one more time. “You don’t seem like the begging type.”

“I’m not,” she said, and she leaned down so her face was side by side with Edelgard’s staring into the mirror. “But I’m also a sucker for a pretty girl. Also,” she straightened and clapped her hands. “Red is definitely your color, which is perfect because since it’s my color, too, I already have everything we need for your new look.”

It was all unfamiliar to Edelgard, and Dorothea described each makeup she used in thorough detail, until there was glitter on Edelgard’s eyes and pink on her cheeks. Her face felt heavy, but this grime was meant to stay, and when Dorothea pulled back to let Edelgard turn her head this way and that to examine herself in the mirror, she felt she looked like a painting. All of the color had been drained from her features years ago, and Dorothea came along like a child to a blank canvas to place it all back with her brushes until she looked like she belong among the living and not underground or in the petunias. 

“Like it so far? We just have one thing left to go—lipstick!” Dorothea pulled out an array of colors spanning a rainbow of reds. “What do you think—subtle,” she pointed to a pale pink just a shade redder than Edelgard’s eyes, “or bold.”

“Honestly,” Edelgard said, the carnation red lipstick burning bright in her eyes. “I think I’m a bit bored of subtly.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

It’s painted on to her lips.

“There,” Dorothea said, bringing their faces to even height again so two sets of glittery eyes stared back at them from the mirror. “Now you’re ready for battle.”

Edelgard turned, giving her a wry smile. “Is that right?”

“Absolutely—love is a battlefield, all’s fair in love and war—there’s a reason the two are compared so much.”

“I see your point,” Edelgard laughed. “But I think I’d prefer not to cleave whoever I’m courting in two.”

“You’d prefer it, but you never know what can happen,” Dorothea said. Her eyes seemed to twinkle even more at that, and she gave Edelgard’s shoulder a little squeeze. “I know you’re probably going to be disappointed in me, but I think this battle is even more important in some ways.”

Edelgard furrowed her brow, and the perfect reflection was ruined by the crack. “How so? I know they say love can be painful, but I think I’d prefer heartbreak to being run through with a sword.”

“It’s not that, but you’re right in a certain way,” and Dorothea straightened up and away from Edelgard. “My life is on the line in both. Albeit, when we go to our first battles, I’m not going to pretend death isn’t more imminent. But at the same time…” whatever was on the tip of her tongue was so strong she had to turn away from Edelgard again to busy herself with her makeup supplies. “If I am able to find a husband here, then there will be no need to keep going with the academy.”

Edelgard followed after her, staring up at Dorothea as she stared down at her makeup. “You’re planning to leave Garreg Mach?”

“Well, not yet,” she said, forcing the levity back into her voice as she clicked shut a makeup case. “Still so many dates and so few results, and,” and her eyes twinkled again, “I have to admit, you’re making quiet the case for me to stay even after Mr. Right comes along. That is, if you’ll say you want me to stay…”

She trailed off, and Edelgard returned her smirk. “How many men have you used that line on?”

Dorothea sighed. “None yet, if you can believe it. I haven’t even found one that got that far yet! Honestly, if this has all taught me one thing it’s that nobles definitely not were born with manners along with those silver spoons. Oh, the horror stories I have, Edie! I don’t know what those nobles are breeding for, but it’s certainty not charm, grace, personality, _or_ personal hygiene.”

Dorothea told her her story, and after it was finished, Edelgard said, “I know I may be another tactless noble sometimes, but—”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Dorothea said. “After all—you’re the first I’ve met I’ve actually wanted to try and charm.”

“Then,” Edelgard said. “Would you stay at the academy and help me do my makeup?”

Dorothea gasped dramatically, “Well, I can’t refuse a request from the imperial princess now can I?”

Edelgard’s red lips quirked up at the corners. “Few can.”

-

Edelgard liked to believe that her father really did love her mother. But she also knows her siblings wanted to believe the same thing about their mothers. 

The Hresvelg’s bred by the dozen for a reason—finding the perfect consort to produce the perfect heir to place another perfect portrait in the hall.

All the dead Hresvelgs in imperial black and red gaze vacantly from their place in the grand hall. Edelgard liked the portraits when she was a little girl. She’d look for the ones wearing the prettiest clothes or the ladies with their hair done up in whatever the fashion had been and wonder when she would get to be as beautiful as them. 

That’s what she was bred for, after all.

Her mother died. Was murdered. Her carriage was overturned, the horses slaughtered, the driver speared through and left on the side of the road. And her mother was dragged out and murdered in the woods. 

Edelgard wasn’t told the story like that, but that’s how she imagined it. Killed and left to rot with the horses like her siblings had been killed and left with the rats. 

Her father had been one of ten siblings. His mother was considered a genius in battlefield medicine, and she and the emperor met and fell in love as students at Garreg Mach when she came to his aid after a mission gone wrong. Edelgard’s father stroked her hair and told her that his father and mother loved each other and that she would find someone she loved, too. She was the emperor now, which meant she’d need to five at least five someones she loved.

She loves Hubert.

Hubert’s parents don’t love each other—Edelgard can tell from their pinched faces that pinch further whenever one of them is asked to parent their child. Hubert’s mother carried the Vestra name, and she was engaged and wed at a young age, and then her husband became the Marquis because she always had headaches and couldn’t bear to leave their townhouse in Enbarr on account of the pounding in her head, dear. 

Hubert’s mother has pretty blue eyes that he didn’t inherit, and when she did come to the palace to join them for dinners she would drain glass after glass of red wine. Her blue eyes would then become hazy, and Hubert would keep his own gaze on the floor when she and his father started to make pinched expressions at each other. 

Hubert’s father was from a more minor noble family, but he was thoroughly wealthy and talented enough at magic that it was considered a good match. 

The other five noble families also made good matches. The Aegirs, Hevrings, and Varleys matched so well they got children with Crests on their first tries. Hubert’s parents didn’t, but they couldn’t be bothered to try again.

But Edelgard’s parents were the perfect match. That’s why she was the one Hubert was assigned to, why she was taken away to the kingdom. But according to the rules of Fodlan, she wasn’t quite perfect enough.

After she survived the underground, Edelgard could barely resist scratching at her new scars. Their rigid bumps felt like smoldering ashes baked into her skin, and while they could scrub off the blood caked to her skin, the new blood inside of her continued to burn. They marred her skin, but they completed her perfection.

Her father couldn’t look at her and her white hair and her scars without looking stripped raw and bleeding himself. 

Her father lingered in sickness near the edge of death since he was stripped of power. His own perfect breeding was no match for the shock of having all his children butchered in the dark. 

All the dead Hresvelgs have vacant stares, and Edelgard would look up at their portraits, one hand on the scars over her heart, and wonder if they lingered or were put out of their misery when the end came.

Her siblings lingered and suffered when they died. Edelgard imagines her mother did, too, and she knows her father will when his time runs out. 

Hubert calls out gently to her when she lingers too long staring at the portraits. She turns her head at his voice and thinks that he’ll probably suffer as well. He’ll jump in front of a sword for her and wish for death. 

Edelgard tells him she’s alright and she’ll be with him in just a moment. 

Edelgard decides that when Hubert’s own perfect breeding and training causes him to take the arrow meant for her heart, she’ll put him out of his misery as quick as she can.

She won’t let the rats get him.

-

Whenever Edelgard looked at the other students, she would know where they came from, and if she didn’t, Hubert would be at her side to whisper in her ear.

All the Alliance nobles managed to acquire suitable heirs, with Claude being the only mistake. Edelgard could never tell if he reveled in that fact or if it weighed heavy on his shoulders. 

All of the Kingdom children were fine enough even after the tragedy shook every family to its core. There was something wrong with Dimitri, though Edelgard knew that had nothing to do with his blood. 

There was also Mercedes, but Edelgard knew her story and Jeritza’s demure requests that Edelgard do her best to sway her to their side. She hardly needed to be told that, though—it was her business to know the business of every imperial noble family. Ferdinand, Bernadetta, Linhardt, and Caspar were all from proper noble pairs. Petra was, too, from whatever standards Brigid had. 

Dorothea was unknown, which meant she was nothing. Her fees to attend Garreg Mach were being bankrolled by an empire noble, though. There was no delicate way to bring that up, and Dorothea did her best to flip her hair and airily laugh whenever her personal finances were questioned. “Oh, a lady never tells.”

Hubert let her know that there was a reason for that, but it didn’t take a spy network to figure out that Dorothea was born in a gutter and willing to do whatever it took not to die in one. 

They met up sometimes to talk about magic, and Dorothea was an enthusiastic teacher, ready to heap praise each time Edelgard summoned the tiniest spark. After a slightly larger flame appeared in Edelgard’s hand, Dorothea hurried around behind her to pull her hair back over her shoulders. “Just to be extra safe,” she said with a wink. “Because as good as red looks on you, I think there is such a thing as too much.”

Edelgard kept her focus on the fire as she addressed Dorothea. “That’s certainly one way to put it. Has anyone ever told you how clever all your little jokes are?”

“Only everyday,” she said, batting her eyes. “I’m practically swimming in admirers these days.”

Magic fire was strange. Its vibrant red coloring betrayed its unnatural origins, and while it burned, it only gave off a pleasant warmth to its caster. 

“Any worthwhile ones?”

“Not yet, but I’m thinking about lowering my standards. I mean, I haven’t yet, but we’ll see how I feel when graduation starts to roll around.”

Edelgard let the fire grow, and Dorothea hummed in approval. “Do you have a lot of experience then? I don’t think I have enough to even know what my standards are.”

“Oh, you figure out pretty quick what you are and aren’t willing to put up with. Trust me, after a conversation with suitor number three, you’ll be able to write a book on what is an instant no.”

It grew more, big enough to be a somewhat imposing fireball. Edelgard took aim at a scorched target on the far side of the training ground and let it go. It flurried and flashed through the air halfway to its mark before fizzling out. 

“Good try,” Dorothea said. “That happens a lot when you’re first learning. Just takes a little more focus.”

Edelgard responded by holding out her hand to summon another one. Nothing emerged from the air and she flicked her hand again, still to no result. She huffed. “I think I’m focusing so much on having the proper focus that I can’t focus.”

“That happens, too. If you want, I can ramble a bit to help you relax.”

“Yes,” Edelgard said. “You could maybe… tell me another one of your stories, if you have one.”

Dorothea laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ve racked up a few dozen more since the last time.”

Dorothea’s stories ranged from dates where she felt like she was being interviewed to boorish nobles who didn’t even bother to pretend they weren’t staring at her chest. Edelgard didn’t know if the buzzing distraction actually did help, but on a particularly pointed recount of one of her date’s bad behavior, the flame roared to life.

“Edie! You did it—”

She thrust her hand forward, and the fire arched, leaving a trail like a meteor, until it burst against the target.

Edelgard brushed her hands together, and before Dorothea could applaud her again, she said, “That’s what I think you should have done to that man when he tried to touch you.”

Dorothea’s smile stayed on her face, but it faltered at the edges. “I was pretty close to, but I appreciate the demonstration.”

“And demonstrations should be put into practice,” Edelgard said. “Don’t you think?”

Dorothea raised an eyebrow. “I’m happy to know you’d pardon me if I set someone on fire.”

“Justice is justice,” Edelgard said, and the next fire she summoned burst to life in her hands immediately. “Or at least I think it should be.”

Dorothea watched in silence as Edelgard released the next fireball with just as much precision as the last one. 

“Edie,” Dorothea said slowly once the fire was gone. “We’re a little different. I agree with you, certainly, but I can’t say things like that. I have more to lose, and… I’m more likely to lose.”

Edelgard had never seen Dorothea drop her spirited, flirtatious and oh-so carefree mask before. “What do you mean?”

“I hate nobles.” Her face soured. “I know what they do with pretty commoner girls, you know. I’ve known that for a long time. They say stupid things like how you’re the fairest of the fair or so beautiful you’d make the goddess herself jealous. And then they throw you away when they’re done.”

“And that’s wrong,” Edelgard said. “And you should be allowed to be angry about that.”

“I am,” Dorothea said. “But if I let that anger out, there’s no one to protect me, and then I’d be thrown in the trash anyway.”

Edelgard dropped her hands to her sides. “But if I did something, the nobles certainly wouldn’t be happy, but…”

“I won’t pretend there wouldn’t be consequences,” Dorothea said, and she managed to smile again through her bitterness. “But compared to me, you’re untouchable.”

What Edelgard felt went beyond fire. 

“Then I’ll just have to be angry enough for the both of us.”

Dorothea’s mouth twisted. “I appreciate the thought, I do. But brute forcing things out of anger—”

“Isn’t my style,” Edelgard said. The fire she summoned appeared without her even having to look, and it bathed her white hair in shades of red. “I don’t have your experiences, but I’ve only lasted as long as I have because I know how to be clever when dealing with rats.”

-

Dorothea helped her with her makeup before she left to go on the training exercise with Dimitri and Claude. House leader bonding before the year started in earnest. 

When Edelgard was thirteen and killed that sleeping nobleman, she became drenched in his blood as if all the blood on both of their hands—his wife and all of her siblings—came pouring out of him. 

It streaked down her clothes hiding her scars and tangled in her white hair, soaked as if she had been out in the rain for too long. 

She shook when she dropped her axe, and Hubert held her. But when the ringing in her ears stopped, she lifted the man in her arms and took him to the gardens. She scrubbed the trail they left clean on her hands and knees, she helped dig the grave and cover it over with dirt, and she stayed perfectly innocent when they launched an investigation to find the rat that did it.

Edelgard decided it would be impractical to wear makeup for training exercises and an overnight campout. 

She let Dorothea choose the most vibrant shade of red for her lips.

-

Claude is on the ground. 

When the bandits came, the three of them ran deep into woods, and enough well timed strikes sent their attackers scurrying.

In their retreat, one of the bandits managed to stick an arrow deep into Claude’s leg. Given the fact that he isn’t trying to crack a joke about their situation, he must be in a lot of pain. Dimitri is at his side, tearing off part of his cape and chattering to himself about whether it would be better to remove the arrow now or leave it in until they could get back to a healer. Claude hisses and Dimitri’s hands start to tremble as if he can’t bring himself to actually reach out and touch the blood running down Claude’s leg.

Edelgard’s standing behind them. The rats she called on to do her dirty work ran away. But one of them left their axe.

She makes the decision all at once. 

The weapon is lighter, cheaper, than what’s she used to, and it doesn’t take Dimitri’s head off in one stroke like she was expecting. Instead, he lets out a strangled, gasping noise and falls to the ground, the dulled blade still lodged in his neck.

He’s choking, making some awful noise that Edelgard knows from her time underground means death is near but still painfully far. 

Edelgard goes for the axe, pressing a foot to his twitching form to gain leverage to yank it back out. She hears rustling, and sees that Claude only wasted half a second in surprise before scrambling and clawing through the dirt to get away. With the arrow, his leg would betray him, so he’s forced to crawl for his life. 

Then he screams for help, loud enough that there is a chance it could carry. The axe is still stuck, and Dimitri hasn’t gone still yet—his chest heaving rapidly with shallow breaths that have no where to go.

Edelgard looks back at Claude and realizes he isn’t pulling himself to safety—there’s no hope of that now—but to Dimitri’s lance left abandoned on the ground. She decides to leave the axe at the same moment Claude reaches the lance. 

He’s still on stomach, still trying to orient himself for a desperate fight, and Edelgard doesn’t see any other stray weapons around him. But her eyes catch on a large rock. Claude is suffering from the bandit’s attack and the terror, and Edelgard is upon him with the rock in both of her hands to put him out of his misery.

Claude must know what she’s trying to do because the first blow to his head is a glancing one as he struggles beneath her. The second comes down better, but he still manages to get out a scream of pain—but it’s not a dying one. He keeps clawing at the dirt, trying to get away, and Edelgard doesn’t know what hit he dies on but she doesn’t stop until he stills completely. 

There’s blood splattered across her face, and she ends up only smearing it further with the back of her sleeve. The ringing in her ears has gotten shorter and shorter after each kill, and this time it’s gone in seconds. And when it fades, she hears Dimitri’s labored, gurgling breaths from behind her.

Edelgard turns.

She meant to show mercy—to him and Claude and everyone else who might get swept up in her wake. But as she looks over Dimitri’s half-dead form, she realizes she’s not quiet clever enough not to be cruel.

Edelgard ends it, and in the red stillness, she thinks she has completed something she was born for. 

The search party comes, finds her pretending to be scared and hiding in a bush a few feet away from her massacre. They give her a blanket and take her hands, and Edelgard knows how to make herself shake and shiver on command like a proper lady. 

She returns to the monastery, clinging to the arm of a brave Knight of Seiros as everyone who witnessed her crimes cries out for Sothis to have mercy on them all. But there’s no need for their prayers—the goddess is dead, and if she isn’t Edelgard will cave her head in with a rock, too. That’s what Edelgard was made for, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> The very first fic I wrote that I feel deserved an M rating, haha. Ever since my first Edelgard fic, Heretics, straddled the line between her positive and dark side, I've written fics that explored the lighter aspects of her, so here I kind of wanted to dip into the darker side a bit. 
> 
> And thank you for reading!


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